more important than our coffee

I think about you a lot. I’m thinking about you right now, if you hadn’t guessed. Here’s what I’m thinking, in case you’re wondering:

You ask to see me alone, to work on something. Of course, I agree. We move to a different room, and we start working.

And then you say something like, “You’re so easy to get along with. We should hang out more.”

And I say something like, “Yeah, we totally should, I enjoy your company.”

And then we do that thing where we look at each other for a second, kind of just smiling and feeling awkward but also confident and just nice in general.

And then we move on, back to work, except I give you my number, you text me right away so I have yours, and then we kind of don’t stop texting for about an hour.

Two days later, we’re texting on and off, and you ask to get coffee. I text back saying absolutely, what time?

We find a time that works for both of us, and then it’s just a matter of waiting until 7 o’clock that night before we’re both busy once more.

I get to the Starbucks at 6:37, and I want to be embarrassed, except you get to the Starbucks at 6:43, so it’s not that bad. You order a mocha frappuccino or something along those lines (cliches will say that that’s something I should remember for the rest of my life, but oh, well). I order a white chocolate mocha, and we sit at one of the little tables.

I had been worried since the moment you asked to meet up that we would have nothing to talk about - I’m terrible at conversation and you can bet timid. But this - this was nice. We talked about . . . things. Just things. School, homework, pretentious professors, hobbies, music. We joked as if we had been meeting up for coffee every day of our lives since we were eleven years old.

God, it was so nice.

I love to say “I love you” to everyone, because I do love them, but I always know when it’s different, and you were different. You were something I couldn’t quite explain, some kind of “I love you” that was too much and still not enough.

So, yeah. I love you. That’s a thing.

I’m sitting at the little Starbucks table, right now. You just left for the bathroom. You should be back any moment now. I was writing this while you were gone because I’m just feeling too much for you right now, I had to get it out.

When you ask what I’m doing so suddenly, typing so furiously, I might say that it’s a paper I forgot to finish that’s due at 11:59. I might say I got an urgent email about financial aid. I might say an old friend from elementary school messaged me on Facebook, and I just had to reply since we had been such good acquaintances.

Or I might just shut my laptop and say, “Nothing more important than our coffee,” with a smile.

I might not even finish my sente

Author's Note

i wrote this with no idea where i was going. there's a poem on hellopoetry (my website is a link to my profile on there). the poem was inspired by this and is much better. let me know what you think !